And you have set fire to my heart
by Poetoffire
Summary: Rue has always seen her prince in reflection on the elevator wall.  Only now, the elevator takes her to a boy she's never met before.  He knows, like she does, that a part of her must die here.  Mytho/Rue music drabble, surreal AU, some violence.


Second to last oneshot in my music-inspired PT ficlet series, **Blood like sunlight**. Beware of strangers bearing allegories.

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Song: Daniel

Artist: Bats for Lashes

Album: Two Suns

Focus: Mytho/Rue

Scenario: Surreal allegorical AU slightly based on Revolutionary Girl Utena

Rating: PG (K+)

Warnings: Violence, metaphors.

Notes: This is the weirdest fic of all. Based heavily on the Revolutionary Girl Utena AMV to the song by sharnii (goshdarn amazing, check it out), and the Black Rose Arc of the same show, it might be a metaphor for losing the dream that there's a perfect person out there for you, and it might be that I have no idea what it's about.

Please don't ask me to explain this one. It stands, or it falls. If we're getting into specific logic, well, we've missed the mark. So it's either your cup of tea or yeah.

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**And you have set fire to my heart**

The hallway is shiny fake gold metal and plush in deep, rich greens, reds, purples. Rue takes in every detail. She remembers the colors, but last time there were no carved borders on the elevator plates.

She pushes the "down" button.

There are six elevators on either side of her. She goes to the one that's two down from the end, on her right. Stands in front of it.

There are two diamond lights on its side, and the bottom one flickers on.

"Ding," says the elevator.

"I don't even know why I'm going through with this," she replies.

The elevator doesn't answer. After a while, the doors open.

She gets in. Last time, the carpet was doe brown. It is scarlet now. That makes her shiver.

The elevator doors close, and she looks up to see her reflection in the dark, golden metal. It's hard to see, but she squints and notices her makeup looks rushed. Last time, she was thinner.

She laughs to herself. "I look a little messed up, huh?"

In the corner of the elevator, her prince smiles gently.

Last time, she tried to find him in the elevator itself, and wasted precious moments. Now, she keeps her eyes trained on the wall's reflection.

She reaches out, takes the bar. The elevator rumbles down. The blurred red 13 turns to 12 turns to 11.

"You aren't any different than last time," she says.

He nods.

He still has a dancer's body, loose hair, a boyish face, and eyes like matches. He still wears a ballet costume with exaggerated puffed sleeves and feather detail work, the color hard to discern against the metallic surface. His smiles are still reconciliations between calm amusement and pity.

8 and 7 and 6 and 5.

Rue grips the bar tighter. The sinking feeling in her stomach is getting worse. "Fakir just got divorced, Ahiru told me."

Her prince doesn't respond.

"He come to see you often?"

Her prince's smile widens.

Her throat is dry. Her heart hurts. Every second she spends with him is taking her places she doesn't want to go.

But she still needs to talk to him.

Rue clears her throat. "So does he see—"

He shrugs.

"Can you answer me? Please?" Rue puts her palm on the wall. "Just say something."

He shakes his head, slowly.

1.

0.

The elevator stops. The doors don't open.

"It's been ten years," she says. Her hand curls into a fist. The metal is getting warmer. "Ten years, and you won't say a goddamn word to me."

Her cell phone buzzes in her purse. For a second, she's terrified, but then she takes it out, trying to ignore her pounding heart. It's her husband calling.

She puts it back in her purse.

"That was my husband," she says. "He's wondering where I am. Fakir told me the story, you know. When you were both six, with the fire, and the bird, when you fell."

She knows it's true because there's a scar on the small of her prince's back. It's not an impressive scar, just a darker blotch, but it hurts him when she touches it. Hurt him when she touched it.

She steps closer to the wall. Her reflection grows. "If I ask you a question, will you at least answer me if you're not going to say anything else?"

Her prince isn't nodding, but he isn't smiling, either. So she can at least try.

"Who's going to be—"

Her phone vibrates again.

She checks it. It's Ahiru. Who probably knows right now where she is.

Rue flips it open and puts it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Rue?" Ahiru asks. There's a note of fear in her voice. "Rue, you said you'd meet me at the café today for breakfast. It's ten already."

"The carpet here is red, Ahiru," she says.

"Rue! I'll meet you there, go back up to floor 13. Please—"

"Has Fakir been back here?"

Shallow breathing. "You said you'd tell me when you did."

"I suppose I had a breakdown too soon."

Ahiru starts to say something, but then sucks in a breath. When she speaks again, she's obviously trying to cover the pain in her words. "Say hi to the prince for me."

"Alright, sure. Sorry I couldn't make the breakfast date."

"It's okay, Rue," Ahiru says. "You don't have to, it's really okay—"

Rue hangs up.

"Ahiru sends her love," she says to her prince.

He nods.

The doors open.

She turns around, walks into a gray room. Flowers stick out of the walls, bright ones and delicate ones, all teardrop petals and delicate swirls.

There's a boy standing in the center. He's wearing a shabby light blue shirt with two buttons missing, jeans, and a newsboy cap.

He spreads his arms wide when he sees her. "I've been waiting."

"I thought it was supposed to be someone I knew."

"Yes, it is," he says. "And?"

"I've never seen you before in my life."

"Interesting," he says, and extends a hand. "I'm Mytho."

"Rue."

They shake.

Underneath the cap, he has a faint resemblance to her prince, distorted by the tiredness of his face.

He smiles.

It's full of warmth.

He's not her prince.

"I've been waiting for this, you know," she says.

He steps forward. "I know."

"I thought I wasn't going to live, and he gave me…but he's not there to ferry me, so I guess I didn't give it back."

Another step. Mytho reaches out, lays a hand on her chest.

"Your heart's beating very quickly," he says.

"I always…wanted this. Not this, but, you know. The…from when I was a little girl. I dreamed of angels and getting married to the only one for you and such. I always clung to it, even if I told myself I didn't."

"We all do," he says.

"Did you?"

"We all do," he says again.

She puts her hands on the back of his neck. He stays still, lets her touch him. His hand is hot on her heart. It's a fair trade.

She moves her hands down, to rest on the small of his back.

He shivers, only slightly.

"Okay, take it from me," she says.

From his back jeans pocket, he draws a curved dagger with a gnarled handle. She recognizes it.

She leans in to kiss him while his fingers part and he finds a spot. He steadies the blade and pushes the handle deep in.

Blood travels down her suit. She can feel the hole in her chest, feel the blood wet on her skin, feel the arteries not connected where they were before. But it doesn't hurt. It wasn't ever going to.

He takes the dagger out, wipes it on his shirt.

She turns away from him, goes back. There are two elevators there now, and no buttons.

One is open. The carpet is amber colored. Soon, it will be pink.

She gets in, leans up against the wall, breathes. Closes her eyes. She doesn't want to see herself right now.

The doors open. She walks out into the hallway.

Turns to see her reflection wave to her as the doors close.

She buttons her suit all the way up, over the hole. The blood isn't on the fabric anymore. She suddenly feels a lot more content with her life. Live and let live and then kill when dead. She's happy.

She doesn't have a prince anymore, true, but she's got a breakfast date, and that's just as good in the real world, anyway.


End file.
